Lightening Hit The Little Tree
by Fyrie
Summary: The X-Men have a new Team Member (a la BtVS)
1. Part 1

It seemed like a human flood, or a stampede, barely controlled in its steady, murmuring, seething mass of life

TITLE: Lightening Hit The Little Tree  
AUTHOR: Fyre.   
RATING: PG-13 (so far)   
SUMMARY: There's a new X-Men team member…   
SPOILERS: No comment ;)   
DISCLAIMER: None of this stuff belongs to me. Honestly. I'm poor.

FEEDBACK: I like! I like it muchly!   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: What was once a Mary-Sue fic was aadapted into this cross-over *sniffs proudly* Hopefully, this is better than what it orginially was.

It seemed like a human flood, or a stampede, barely controlled in its steady, murmuring, seething mass of life.

Amid the expanse of humanity, a single girl stood, motionless, an island in a sea of people, her pale eyes staring emptily up at the massive signs that proclaimed her welcome in this new part of her country.

Allowing herself to be half-pulled, half-pushed along by the flow, Electra – as she now called herself – felt insignificant. Tiny. In more ways than one.

Her slender hands were bunched in tight fists, which had been carefully and tightly swathed with lengths of bandages, her right thumb and forefinger the only visible sections of either of her hands. They were wrapped around the strap of her weighty rucksack nervously.

"Why am I doing this?" She had been whispering that same question to herself throughout her entire flight from California to New York, her fears and doubts intensifying with every hour that had passed. "I shouldn't have run..."

But she couldn't go back.

Not now.

Not ever.

The day she had realised that she was different had been the day she had fled. In fact, that she was so different was the very reason she had run, not telling anyone, taking nothing but her lightest and most precious items with her.

Halted by security, her mind wandered back, back to the familiar faces and the friends she knew she could never see again. They wouldn't even recognise her now, she knew it. Even just a few months on the run had proved that.

The annoyingly-familiar burning prickled at her eyes, her fists sweeping the hissing tears away. Surrounded by so many people, she felt terrifyingly alone. All she had left was the hope that what she had heard was true.

"You can go." The officer prompted grudgingly, obviously hoping that the odd-looking girl would prove a troublemaker. Unfortunately, all of Electra Harris' paperwork appeared to be completely in order.

Apart from the fact that all of it was fake, right down the files in the F.B.I. computer systems, but she wasn't about to tell the officer that, hefting her rucksack further up her back and hurrying passed him, pausing in the arrivals hall and looking around slowly.

Spotting a seat in the corner, she was pleased to notice the crowd opened up around her, suspicious and wary glances and comments sent in her direction detracting from the moment, as she made her way towards it.

She knew why they were staring.

Not only was she diferent in her abilities, but her looks. And quite possibly her aura too. She had wondered how her only ally had known about her when he found her stowing away on the back of his truck. He said he could sense her.

He had terrified her at first, massive – nearly two feet taller than her, his shadow darkening his face, making it more terrifying than it really was. But now, here she was, having followed his wise advice. Advice she had only taken after almost seven and a half months of hiding out and sneaking journeys when she could manage.

That's why she was now sitting in the corner of a bustling airport in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, waiting for a complete stranger to take her to a safe haven for her and her kind.

She just hoped he was right.

Letting her rucksack slide to the floor with a heavy thump, she pulled her feet up underneath her and exhaled a long sigh. She knew she looked pathetic and she definitely felt it, more so than her eighteen years should really have allowed.

The sight of her fellow-passengers meeting family members and friends sent a tidal wave of envy careening through her, the swell of jealousy taunting her and tempting her to unravel the only things that held her temper at bay.

Instead, however, she reached a trembling hand into her capricious coat pocket, withdrawing a dog-eared paperback and curling uncomfortably into the seat to read it, briefly considering the possibility that she might not be recognised or helped.

The flicker of her reflection in a gleaming mirror several feet away caught her atention. A bitter little laugh broke from her lips, raising a hand to touch her cheek with a crackle. "How could they miss you?" She muttered, "You look like a freak. They'll know you...if they show face."

And she had to admit that that was one helluva big 'if'.

*

Striding alongside Professor Xavier, Cyclops glanced back at the car as they made their way across the bustling parking lot. Driving as fast as they dared, the X-Man and his 'boss' had gotten to the airport as quickly as they could and Xavier was convinced that their new charge was still present.

Behind them, the dazzlingly illuminated skyline of Manhattan glinted brightly against the dark velvet of the night sky. Even though it was almost midnight, the city was still bursting to the seams with all manner of activity.

Entering the arrivals hall, the two mutants glanced around the fairly busy chamber, the younger of the two making his way after the professor, who was unerringly making his way towards an isolated individual, who crouched inobtrusively in the corner of the seating area, eyes focused intently on anything but her surroundings.

It was an expression both men had come to recognise.

"Electra?"

Her silver-haired head jerked up sharply, ice-blue eyes warily flicking from Xavier to Cyclops and back again, her silver-sheened skin taut. "Who wants to know?" She asked, her tone guarded. She shifted slightly, sparks of electricity crackling across her skin.

"You asked for help." Xavier smiled gently, clearly aware of just how much this girl had grown to depend on herself, not trusting anyone else. "I'm Charles Xavier. My friend – Monty Reynolds – told me that you would be here."

She nodded once, tucked her book away. "And who's that?" She gestured to Cyclops, her eyes settling on the tightly-strapped on visor.

"I'm Scott." He elaborated, casting a winning smile at her, receiving only an impassive gaze in response. "I'm a friend of the Professor."

Another nod.

"Perhaps we ought to head back?" Xavier suggested, breaking the awkward silence. Electra glanced at him, expression empty. "Would you like to come and live at the school for the time being, Electra?"

"School?"

Xavier gave her a secretive smile. "You'll fit in just fine." He explained quietly, fighting down a small smile as she nodded again, rose to her feet, her long leather coat settling around her with a shake of her hips.

"Nice jacket."

Pale blue eyes glanced down at it, the threat of a smile creeping onto her lips. "Got it from...an old acquaintance." She said softly, running a hand down the textured black leather. "So...where are we headed?"

*

Casting a sidelong glance at his young passenger, Cyclops took in her gaunt face and fear-laced posture, her body rigid as if preparing for flight, her hands defensively clutched to her body, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Even so, in spite of this and her diminuitive frame, he could tell that she was a tough little thing, a person who had seen more than her fair share of evil and faced it. It shone in her misty, empty eyes.

Dressed from head-to-toe in black, she seemed to be aiming for the sinister look, probably attempting to keep any interested parties at bay. Looking frightening was often more effective than actually being so. Only those clumpy bandages seemed out of place...

"Why are you watching me?" She asked quietly, her gaze fixed on the dark road that wound on ahead of them.

"I was wondering what happened to your hands. Did you get hurt?"

Her full attention turned to him, a curious expression crossing her face. "It wasn't me that was hurt." Running her finger over the bumpy material of the bandage, she paused, seeming to be struggling over what to say. "I can't control the power." 

"I know the feeling." Cyclops tapped at his visor, a pained smile crossing his face at the memories he had of the time before Xavier had found him, helped him. "When did you find out about your power?"

Her shoulders rose in a shrug. "About seven and a half months ago." She replied, her tone neutral. "Someone tried to hurt my friend and...it just happened. I thought I had killed them both, so I ran..." Her finger brushed the cuff of her jacket again, her lashes crackling when she blinked. "It was only when I stopped running that I saw what I was. What I looked like."

"It doesn't matter what you look like." Xavier reassured her gently, feeling the intense pain and loneliness the young woman was clearly feeling. Aside from the metallic sheen of her skin,she didn't even look very different, compared to some of the students at his school.

"You can say that." She caught his gaze in the mirror, her expression blank. "You don't look like there's anything...different about you."

A small smile twitched the corners of Cyclops' mouth up. "You look as different as Storm." He remarked. "And people don't pick on her anymore." There was a pause. "There is always the fact that she can manipulate the weather, but I'm sure that's nothing to do with it."

"Scott." Xavier's amused chatisement roused the hint of a sad smile from the girl, before her mask of solemnity fell back into place.

Focusing his attention back on the road, Cyclops curbed the urge to frown. This kid was going to be tough to crack. She had already regressed so much into herself, that it seemed impossible to imagine her as anything other than an empty-eyed, stony-faced young woman.

But they would do it somehow.

*

Sinking down onto the unmade bed, Electra's gaze flicked around the room. There were four neat beds, each with a small locker alongside it, the items decorating them suggesting that the other three inhabitants of the spacious room were also girls.

Her rucksack lay beside her, the zipper half-open. Tugging the contents out, spreading them across the mattress, she proceeded to fold her sparse pile of clothing, the majority of it lined with a material similar to rubber, that prevented anyone brushing passed her electrocuting themselves through the current that buzzed in her skin.

And yet, it had proved on several occassions too weak to prevent the power that roiled within her from spewing from her palms, which was why her hands remained curled in tight fists and swathed to the wrist in bandages.

Pausing, she lifted her most precious belonging, running her finger over the sheet of glass that covered the photograph of her and her two best friends, taken what seemed like an eternity ago, before she had found she was different.

Or would that be more different?

After all, living on a Hellmouth was different. Being involved with – in rapid succession – a demon-possessed computer, a werewolf and her normal best friend was different. Being best friends with a Slayer who was in love with a vampire was different.

More different suddenly seemed appropriate.

Placing the photograph reverently in a drawer in her locker, she laid her clothing carefully in on top of it, the drawer sliding shut just as the door of the room swung inwards, two girls running in, laughing happily.

The taller of the two girls was maybe a little younger than she was. She looked normal, her dark brown hair given an exotic look thanks to the pure white waves that curled down around her face. 

The other, too, looked completely normal, her bright clothing only serving to emphasis her dark hair and eyes, a wide smile on her face.

"You must be Electra." The brunette girl said. She smiled again, offered a gloved hand to the silver-haired mutant, who simply nodded in silent greeting. The girl paused, withdrew her hand with an awkward glance at the bandages. "Uh...I'm Rogue."

"And I'm Jubilee." The other girl added. Electra glanced at her, uncertain what to do. These were mutants? Or were they normal? Nothing about them looked at all strange, but then, neither the Professor or Scott had looked strange either.

"Are you guys...uh...like me?"

Rogue and Jubilee exchanged glances, nudging one another. Finally, Rogue nodded. "We're mutants, if that's what you mean." She smiled faintly. "That's why I have to wear these." She held up her gloved hands.

"You don't look like you are." Skeptically, tilting her head, the silver-haired mutant barely stifled a shriek when a girl's head popped through the centre of the door, turning to look at the three girls, a wide grin on her face.

"I wondered if you'd arrived!" The head said.

Electra took several slow breaths. "Okay..." She managed to say, one of her clumpy hands pressed to her heart. "Don't ever do that again."

Stepping completely through the door, the short-haired girl gave her an infectious smile. "I don't get to surprise people often." She offered as an explanation, her eyes dancing. "I'm Kitty. I guess you're Electra."

"Does everyone in this place know who I am?"

The door opened, permitting Cyclops and a tall, dark-haired woman to enter. "Jean, this is Electra. Electra, this is Jean Grey, our resident doctor and public relations person."

"I've seen you on the news." Electra nodded warily. "You were lobbying against the mutant registration act. Please tell me I'm not the only one who thought Senator Kelly could have done with a good kick up the ass."

Jean Grey smothered a smile at the girl's attitude. The muted chuckles from the other three girls suggested they agreed too. "I don't think any of the kids at the school would disagree with you there." She said. Glancing at the other girls, the doctor paused. "Would you mind coming with me, Electra? I'd like to talk to you, if that's all right."

Shrugging out of her duster, the silver-haired mutant rose, tiny flecks of lightening dancing with every movement. "I guess I've got nothing better to do." She replied, following Grey out of the room, leaving Cyclops to basically summarise what he knew about the girl to her new roommates.

*

"So she is in a similar position as Rogue, then?" Xavier arched a brow.

Jean nodded, gestured to the images projected on the screens. "It's as if she has an electric current running through her skin." She explained. "Just touching her bare skin would inflict a powerful shock, but that's not the main feature of her power." Pressing the play on the recording system, she let them watch.

Abruptly, the screen erupted in a fizz of static.

"What happened?" Storm asked, furrowing her brow.

Jean replayed the recording, screen by screen. "When Electra opens her hands, her palms emit beams of pure electricity, in a similar way as Cyclops does with his eyes." Tapping the screen, she pointed to the pure spots of white on the girl's hands. "She short-circuited almost everything in the labs with the power in the blast."

"Damn." Wolvering swore, half awed.

"Is it possible for her to control it?" Storm knew the power of electricity from her ability to pull down the lightening.

Jean nodded. "She's spent months containing it by keeping her hands in fists and bandaged up, but we're working on some gloves that should prevent minor shock and allow her to focus the power with a panel on the palm. Hopefully, she should be able to exert more control of the intensity and strength as well."

"Like my vizor?"

"Exactly." Flicking off the screen, Jean turned to face the small group directly. "But there's more to Electra than there is to an average mutant." Xavier gave her a prompting nod. "She confessed that her hometown was a centre of supernatural power and she was a practising witch."

A snort of disblief rose from Logan. "You have to be shittin' me." He growled. "Don't tell me you believe in witches, Jean."

"I may not believe in them, but she does have some telekinetic abilities that are certainly not natural." The doctor shrugged. "But then, if you had told me that I would know people who could blast energy from their eyes or control the weather when I was a teenager, I wouldn't have believed it either."

There was a long silence, the group mulling over this new information. Xavier let his gaze wander each of them, hoping they would accept the girl. She had been running for far too long, even though she had faced things far worse than mutation.

"There ain't a chance she'll go bad?" Logan finally voice the question they all wanted to ask.

Xavier intervened on Jean's behalf. "She's a good girl, that much I can tell." He spoke quietly, firmly. "She's seen both the good and the bad sides of life. I don't think she would ever want to be on the wrong side."

The group seemed to accept that, nodding.

Jean had been right when she had said there was more to Electra than any other mutant. On the journey, he had done a very light probe of her mind, finding her memories filled with fear, anger, loneliness, but also strength, stubborness, power and – above all – resolve.

He had attempted to go a little deeper, only to find the girl had twisted in her seat and was staring hollowly at him. "If you want to know." She had said, calm as ever. "You just have to ask me."

"For the time being," He drew himself back to the present, to the lab, where his team waited expectantly for his orders. "I suggest we make her feel as welcome as possible and let her tell us more in her own time."

*

Pursing her lips, tapping series of keys in rapid succession, Electra frowned. 'Access denied' flashed up on the screen for the umpteenth time that hour. Her fingers flew, trying another code, determined to override the system.

"What are you doin', kid?" 

Raising her eyes over the top of the screen, the former red head flashed a faint smile at the dangerous-looking man. "F.B.I. files." She replied, the furious tap-tap-tap beat of her fingers never breaking pace or rhythm.

"You hack F.B.I. Files often?"

The tiny smile he had grown accustomed to spread a little wider. "We don't have cable." She replied, expression almost deadpan. "So we have to make our own fun."

"Did anyone ever tell you you're strange?"

"Recently? No."

Logan chuckled softly. "Well, kid, you're strange."

Her eyebrow rose slightly. "Look whose talking." Her attention was rivetted back to the screen, glove-clad fingers a blur on the keys, teeth nibbling thoughtfully on her lower lip. A tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows, but still, the beat of the keys never faltered.

Leaving her to whatever it was that she was doing, Logan spotted one of the girl's roommates and possibly the only other person inflicted with a similar condition of being unable to touch another person: Rogue.

"Hey, kid."

"Logan, hi!" Her smile was a genuine one. In the months since they had first arrived at the school, she had changed from a terrified girl into a confident young woman. "Were you talking to Electra?"

He nodded once. "Didn't get much outta her." He grunted. "She's busy crackin' some government files or somethin'."

"As usual." Rogue cast a genuinely fond smile in the direction of the spike-haired, silver-skinned hacker. "She's got to be the smartest person in the school after the X-Men." In a hushed tone, she confessed. "I think she might be as smart as the Professor sometimes."

Logan glanced over at the intent, silvery young mutant. He would have to agree with Rogue's uneasy judgement. The kid was smart. Real smart. Smart with computers, smart with math, smart with languages, smart with everything.

Which made her all the more dangerous, if she ever decided to join the side of the mutants who fought against humanity. For some reason, he couldn't shake the suspision that she might still do that. Even after having her around for two months, only Xavier – and possibly Jean – knew more than that she was an eighteen year old mutant-cum-witch and she had run away from her home in California.

That lack of knowledge was the main root of his distrust, but there was something else: his gut instincts.

Normally, he could tell whether someone was good or bad within a matter of minutes, but that kid was a mystery, completely baffling. She seemed to close in on herself, rather than let anyone get close.

"She's a strange kid." He muttered, half to himself.

To his surprise, Rogue nodded, her cheeks flushing at the thought of accusing her friend of being different. "She's so focused. She always concentrates so hard, like she's trying to remember everything that she sees and hears...it's kinda frightening."

That only increased his suspicions.

Glancing over at the metallic-coloured mutant, he ground his jaw. He was goin' to have to watch that kid, that was for damn sure.

*

Drawing the cuffs of her uniform over her hands, Electra lifted her head, a small smile pulling her silvery lips upwards. Turning her hands over, she glanced at both palms, the round discs that controlled her power flow securely in place.

It had taken months for her to reach the status of X-Men team member. Even though she had reached the post far quicker than most of the kids, she hadn't done it on merit alone. Her fighting skills had improved, along with her intense focus and ability to manipulate her power to do whatever she willed.

Although still relatively little was known about her, she was reasonably trusted: determined, tough, resourceful and intensely powerful, she was intimidating, even if she didn't intend to be.

"Ready, kid?" Logan was still one of the few people who had remained utterly suspicious of her, of her promotion to team member. As far as he knew, she had gone to Xavier and asked to be put on the team and the old man had agreed wholeheartedly. That worried the older X-Man, her determination to be in on the mission.

She nodded, gave him a tight grin. "You know it."

She had been the one who had cracked the code on an intercepted message between some of the known mutant dissidents, which seemed far too much of a coincidence for the X-man known as Wolverine to accept.

There had been rumours that Magneto was once again in leadership of the group, his escape from jail being unmentioned in the oblivious media and covered up by the prison council. No doubt he was out for revenge all over again.

Gesturing for her to board the jet, he watched her climb, her willowy frame looking tough and strong despite its size, her uniform hugging her body, leaving very little to the imagination. 

Something told him to trust her, but he couldn't. Something in her demeanour, her attitude, the way she consistently had Xavier's ear in the most aggravating of circumstances: it all seemed to add up to something suspicious.

Following her up into the jet, he slid into his usual seat, glancing over at the two others in the front seats. Cyclops gave him a thumbs up, knowing of Wolverine's wariness about the silver-haired girl. Storm simply smiled.

"This should be fun." Electra murmured, rubbing her hands together in gleeful anticipation. The static made the hair of the triad rise and she promptly gave them a sheepish look. "Um...I'll just sit still now, okay?"

"Crazy kid." Logan muttered under his breath, drawing small grins from the two older X-Men.

*

Of all the places in the city, Magneto had to choose a deserted, tumbledown warehouse in the middle of nowhere to try and set his trap. Logan exhaled a frustrated sigh, the scent of his partner's excitement and nervousness reaching him.

Storm and Cyclops had taken the lower level, leaving Electra and Wolverine to scope out the top floor.

Which was just asking for trouble, Logan thought. Whenever an X-Man was on an upper-floor, they usually ended up being thrown down something or falling to another level. And, typically, it happened to be his turn for a big fall.

"Sst!" With a swift hand gesture, he backed the girl against the wall, his nostrils flaring, finding a new scent. A familiar scent. His claws 'snickt' out, glinting vaguely in the dusty light that filtered through the cracked roof.

"What?" He could hear the crackle of Electra's skin, could smell the tingle of electricity hanging in the air.

Before he could reply, there was a muffled shriek from behind him. Whipping around, he found Electra still standing there, pointing down at the floor, an expression of utter disgust on her face. "A rat!"

He sighed again, turned, catching the scent once more. Edging along in the shadows, he glanced back at his slight sidekick, her expression seeming illuminated with joy, the grin on her lips more terrifying than her usual emotionless face.

Stopping short, he rolled his eyes and muttered. "Aw, shit."

His spin was fast. Fast enough to catch Electra's ankle as she aimed for his head, flipping her head over heels to land on her feet, a change morphing her features back into the blue-scaled face he recognised as Mystique.

"I thought you would have learned from the last time." Blocking several rapid blows, he kicked out her legs, his ears catching the stifled scream from high above him. Trust the kid to get in trouble her first time out.

"Took you a while to figure it out, baby." She purred, smashing him in the face with her heel, then repeating the blow to his stomach.

He couldn't say how long the fight lasted, but the woman abruptly shifted shape again, becoming recognisable as the face he saw in the mirror every morning, right down to the claws protruding from the knuckles.

Which meant that another of the team were close by.

"That wasn't very nice." Electra's voice icily stated, crackling with anger. God, did she sound pissed. Incredibley pissed. He and his twin turned to the girl, matching expressions on their furious faces, but their anger couldn't match hers.

"Blast him!" Mystique growled, her voice and intonation perfect.

Electra arched an eyebrow. "You don't like him, do you, Mystique?"

The blue woman froze, the baffled look that crossed her face – Wolverine's face – priceless. It was seldom that people recognised her in a form that was not clearly her own, especially an immature, wannabe X-Man.

"Kid, take her down." Logan put in quietly. "Don't kill her."

Electra released a small, harsh chuckle. "Really, Logan, why do you think I would do something like that?" She pressed her palms together, a ball of blue-white light forming between her clenched hands. "I've got a point to prove...what better way is there than this?"

The gleaming ball of light exploded through the air, smashing into the X-Man, sending him sailing through the air to connect with the wall at the other end of the warehouse, his body twitching as the current passed through the adamantium.

It hurt like hell, but it would never have been enough to kill him. He just couldn't move, no feeling energy left within him, his whole body a mass of burning pins and needles.

Folding her arms, Electra turned to Mystique, who had returned to her own form. "Was that good enough?" 

The blue mutant laughed softly, walked over to the fallen Wolverine. "I'm impressed." She remarked, turning back to the silver-skinned mutant. "You really had them convinced that you were a good guy."

"You know Xavier and his 'quest for hope' crap." Electra spoke softly, eyes never leaving Logan's face, shadowed and empty once again. "Took some time to get in under their skin, but now, I know everything there is to know. Even the old boy believed me."

Cracking his eyes open with a pained growl, Logan tried to rise, but his body betrayed him. "I knew there was somethin' wrong with you." He spat, dizzying pain exploding through his body. He hadn't felt this bad in a long time. "The Profesor...he trusted you..."

"Thats his loss." Flicking another surge of electricity at him, she stepped away as the X-Man slumped into unconsciousness and turned to the blue-skinned woman who stood next to her. "I think its time for us to disappear, don't you?"

Distantly aware of the two women stalking away, Logan strained to draw breath, his eyes half-closed. He had to stay a little conscious, just until Storm and Cyclops found him. He had to tell them what had happened.

"Logan?" Storm's voice was the first he heard, forcing his eyes open to stare up at her. "Logan, what happened? Where's Electra?"

He stared at her mutely, blinked. "She set us up." His voice sounded rough, hoarser than he could recall it sounding. "She's joined them."

He saw Cyclops and Storm exchange glances, fearful glances, heard them ask him something, but he couldn't say what. He was just feeling so disorientated and there were those black spots blotting out his vision.

Let them take care of it, he thought, I can't stay awake anymore.

*

Xavier took the news remarkably well, his stoic features never revealing a suggestion of what he was thinking. Folding his hands in his lap, he had leaned back in his chair, gazing out into the bustling gardens.

Logan had been deposited carefully in his bed, until his accelerated healing had kicked in. He was up and about and raring for revenge within twelve hours, prowling furiously across the floor of Xavier's study.

The meeting of the X-Men had been called as soon as he was able to move freely. This uncalled for development was something none of them hoped they would have to face, knowing Electra's power and intelligence.

Outside, the sky was dark, crickets chirping softly. The school was silent, the children in their beds, most of them asleep.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

"Firstly," Xavier spoke calmly, but with enough authority to still the wolf-like mutant's pacing impatient pacing. "We're going to stay calm." He cast a glance towards the window. "Ah, good. They've arrived." He seemed to speaking half to himself.

Cyclops glanced at Jean, then Xavier. "Who have, Professor?"

"You'll meet them in a moment." The telepathic mutant smiled enigmatically, his extraordinary patience never wavering.

Storm, Jean and Cyclops pivoted in their seats as the door opened behind them, revealing a small group standing in the huge hallway. Logan narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air. There was something definitely not normal about the gang, most of whom were just kids.

There were seven of them altogether, five male and two female. Oddly enough, it appeared that the more petite of the girls, a slight blonde, was in charge of the rest of the group, despite the three men who were all clearly older than she.

The oldest of the group wore an exhausted look on his face, like that of a harassed father. He looked a little younger than Xavier himself. The other two men looked as if they were around the same age as Cyclops, but they were complete foils of one another.

Dark-haired with a brooding air about him, the taller seemed to draw the shadows around him, sexy in a tall-dark-and-handsome way, oozing mystery and unwanted charisma that he seemed entirely oblivious of.

The other looked every inch a punk rebel, leaning casually against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his black-polished fingers. His short, black leather jacket coupled with the bleached hair screamed that he wasn't the kind of man a nice girl took to meet her mother.

Alongside the perfectly-attired brunette girl, the other dark-haired male stood. He looked like he was around eighteen, a slightly goofy look about him, while the smallest – who had vivid green- and black-striped hair – was standing impassively to one side.

The petite blonde was looking exceptionally pissed, feet apart, body incased in a combination of black and red leather, her heeled boots adding a deceptive few inches to her diminuitive height.

"Who the hell are you?" Logan voiced the question none of the others were blunt enough to.

"I'm Buffy." The blonde's snarl matched his own. "Wanna tell me what the Hell you've done with my friend?"


	2. Part 2

The stand-off seemed to last a lot longer than the time it took Xavier to move his chair around the desk

The stand-off seemed to last a lot longer than the time it took Xavier to move his chair around the desk. In reality, it lasted less than thirty seconds, but the blonde's staring battle with Logan never wavered, both as stubborn as each other.

"Glad you could come." He addressed the question to the oldest man at the back, who stepped between the younger group members and shook Xavier's hand. "You must be Mister Giles. Electra told me a great deal about you."

"In that case, you must be Professor Xavier." The man was apparently English, if his accent was anything to judge him by. "I tried to persuade the children that they didn't need to come with me, but..." He gave a shrug. "You know what teenagers are like."

Buffy cast a glare at the man. "You said they had Wills." She said, her tone bitter. "For all we knew, they were hurting her."

"I still don't get it." Logan looked from Giles, to Xavier, then back at Buffy. "Who's this Wills, they're talkin' about? And who gives a damn about Electra too? She double-crossed us, the traitorous little bitch."

"Logan." Xavier's tone was reprimanding. "Let 's stay calm, for the time being."

His lip curling in a half-snarl, half-sneer at the blonde girl, Logan stalked over to the window ledge and leaned against it, staring darkly at the group. The bleached blond man arched a dark eyebrow at the mutant, blew a plume of smoke at him and chuckled.

"This is just bloody rich." He remarked, his blue eyes glinting with mischief, a wide grin splitting his face. "We've finally found the male version of Slutty on a good day! And I bet he'd look better in a frock than she does."

One of the group sniggered, until the blonde span and flashed a glare at him. "I still have my weapons, Xander." She warned, her voice low, dangerous. Logan was tempted to flick his claws out too, just for the impact it would have.

"Would you mind behaving?" Giles suggested, clearly more than a little frayed on the nerves, his hand fitfully wiping the lenses of his glasses. "We-we-we are here for a rather important reason and I-I-I would prefer if you would listen."

"Sorry, G-Man." The dark-haired teen grinned insincerely.

Taking a slow, calming breath, Giles forced a smile. "I told you never to call me that, Alexander." He turned his attention back to Xavier, his smile still tight. "Perhaps you can tell us what happened. Willow would never join the other side without good reason, I'm certain."

"No, just because we know that no one ever changes sides because a little something like...oh, say sex?" The blonde man shot a venemous glare at the tallest of the group, who gazed back impassively.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Ooh, Slutty has a tender spot, all cos she can't shag old Sire o' mine...poor widdle baby! No humping for Buffy."

The blonde girl gave the dark man a reproving look. "Tell me again why you turned him."

"I wanted someone to talk smartmouth?" He suggested, still lurking in the shadows. "To tell the truth, he was a poet...or he was trying to be one." A malicious flicker of gold gleamed in the blonde man's eyes. 

"Shut up, you pillock. The Watcher's tryin' to talk."

"Ye-yes, thank you, Spike." Giles was pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, clearly frustrated. "Well, Professor, Willow h-herself called me. She said I ought to-to-to make my way here as soon as-as possible. She said you would know what it was a-about."

Xavier nodded, steepled his fingers beneath his chin, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, I know what it's all about." He smiled absently. "She thought it would benefit your group to receive training from my people."

"But Professor..." Cyclops interrupted hastily. 

"Scott, these people want training. They may be able to help us in our hand-to-hand combat in return." Xavier waited for the question and reponses he knew were coming.

Logan arched an eyebrow and uttered. "Huh?"

Jean gave Scott's knee a cautioning squeeze, cearly aware something was different about the group. Storm looked from face to face, as if searching for what they were. While some were human, the others, she wasn't certain of.

"Why do I get the feeling they don't think I'm strong enough to beat the hell out of them?" Buffy pouted, jutting out her lower lip and batting her eyes. She looked down at herself. "Okay, I may be small, but I can fight."

Logan snorted. "What kind of hand-to-hand combat can a bunch of kids teach a buncha mutants? We can do stuff that you'd never even imagine."

"Well, I can imagine quite a lot." Buffy stiffened her back, narrowed her eyes at him. "And I've fought a lot of it too."

The power contest that was going on and the tense atmosphere was broken when the blonde man, Spike, chortled loudly. "Bloody hell...tell me when it gets to the naked mud-wrestling, mates, I want front row seats!"

"You always did like big and scary-looking men." The tall, dark-haired man put in.

"Yeah, mate," The blonde retorted. "Look at what I had as a Sire, then think carefully about what you just said." He thought over his own words, frowned as a smug smirk crept onto the dark man's lips. "Bugger! I think I confused meself..."

The dark-haired girl patronisingly patted him on the head. "It's easily done, Spike."

"You expect these kids to be able to teach us anything about fighting?" Cyclops gave the group a skeptical-looking over. "I mean, aside from bickering and name-calling, what kind of special skills do they have?"

Buffy glanced at Giles. "I tell them now, right?" He nodded. "I'm the Chosen One, saviour of the world several times over and fighter of demons and vampires and all the other nasty things that go bump in the night."

"And owner of the wildest imagination in the world?" Logan suggested. The blonde man sniggered, hid his mouth behind his hand.

Buffy's hands settled on her hips, her mouth set in a tight, thin line, eyes icy. She took two slow steps towards the mutant, arched an eyebrow. "You think I couldn't kick your ass from here to Hell? I did it to my boyfriend. I could do it to you."

"Uh-oh, mate." Spike grinned at Logan. "You've made her mad."

"Buffy," Giles intervened, stepping between the mutant and the blonde girl. "Perhaps we should explain who we are and where we are from."

The blonde shrugged, stepped back, folded her arms over her chest. "Go ahead." She glanced at the tallest man, the bleached blonde and the stripe-haired young man. "Spike, Angel, Oz care to show yourselves, boys? Maybe then, Mister Skeptical here would believe us."

Immediately, three remarkable changes took place. The tallest of the triad and the blonde's faces seemed to shift shape, deep ridges of flesh rising above their eyes which had turned an eerie shade of gold, their teeth changing into ragged fangs.

The green and black-haired young man's appearance changed too, eyes darkening, thick fur springing up from his face, his eyes darkening to gleaming black orbs, his teeth also developing into fearsome-looking fangs.

Instinctively, the X-Men – except Xavier – recoiled, staring at things they had only believed to be fictional horror legends: vampires and werewolves. Almost immediately, they shifted back to their normal features.

"Believe us now?" Buffy asked sweetly. "We have two centennial vampires who know every style of fighting, including down and dirty street fighting." Spike grinned at that. "Seems that all vampires are born with a martial arts gene inside them." She allowed herself a small smile. "But mine is better."

"Cocky bitch." Spike muttered. "You're the bloody Slayer...if you were normal, you wouldn't have a chance in hell."

Buffy flashed a smile at him. "Wrong, Spike, dear. I lost my powers once and I still managed to kill an insane vampire." She risked a look at Logan. "You want to know my abilities? I've fought and killed hundreds of demons in the last three years. I've got superstrength and healing abilities that normal humans don't have, but I'm not a mutant. What do you have?"

Logan raised the back of his hand to her, balled a fist and smiled. "Just these." He replied pleasantly and popped his claws. Considering three blades of razor-sharp metal had sprung from his knuckles less than half an inch from her face, she reacted very well.

Tilting her head, she nodded. "Impressive. Still, nothing beats a good old-fashioned stake through the heart." She ran her finger up the blade, examining the quality of the metal. "I wouldn't mind a couple of knives made of that though – it would be useful for the demons with thick hides." She paused, threw a sweet look back at Spike. "Or vampires with thick skulls."

"So let me get this straight," Jean Grey rose, looking over the little group warily. "You're some kind of evil fighter, but you have vampires and werewolves on your team?"

Buffy grinned. "Maybe I should do the spiel. In every generation, there a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the demons, the vampires and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer. Lucky for me, Oz is house-trained and these vampires here aren't normal vampires."

"Hey!" Both Spike and Angel exclaimed indignantly.

Ignoring them, she explained. "Angel is the World's only vampire with a soul and Spike was stupid enough to get himself neutered by electricution." She frowned. "Don't quite known how that works, but it does."

"Watch it, luv. Just because I don't bite, it doesn't mean I'm bloody impotent."

"Touchy much?"

The brunette girl received an icy glare from the blonde. "Keep your soddin' mouth shut, or I'll do it for you."

"Cordelia, don't taunt the biteless wonder." The teen, Xander, admonished. His features carried a touch of the faithful puppy look: a dopey grin, big, soulful eyes and a mass of unruly dark hair. "It's just no fun when he can't fight back."

Giles cast a helpless glance in Xavier's direction. The mutant smothered a small smile. "I think," He said, leaning forward on the arms of his chair. "That perhaps we should discuss this in the morning. Mister Giles?"

"I agree." The other Englishman nodded, a look of relief flooding his face. Clearly the trip from California hadn't been full of fun. The bickering among the group of 'children' would have tried the patience of any parent. "Buffy, don't even think about touching that stake."

The blonde's hand fell away from the base of her back, her lip jutting out in a pout. "But he's being annoying." She gestured at the peroxide vampire, who stuck out his tongue and spun round to wiggle his rear at her in a most mature fashion.

"Yes." Giles blew out a sigh of frustration. "He's also harmless. You can't kill him." The vampire grinned widely, until Giles pointedly added. "Yet."

Chuckling softly, Xavier gestured Storm and Jean forward. "Can you find rooms for Miss Chase and Miss Summers?" He asked quietly. "Preferably somewhere near one another, if at all possible."

The two female mutants nodded. The Slayer and her brunette companion glanced at Giles, who nodded, inclined his head. They rolled their eyes, followed the two women out into the hallway, their heels clacking on the floor.

Scott was given similar orders, regarding the two vampires, the young werewolf and the teenager with them. Logan silently prowled out of the room after them, leaving Giles and Xavier in the massive room.

"Thank the Lord for that." The Watcher sank down in a seat, running his hands over his head tiredly. "I thought they would never shut up."

The eldest mutant nodded. "I can admit to knowing the same feeling." He smiled. "How would you like a cup of tea? Then we can discuss what we both know about the situation regarding Willow...or Electra, as she calls herself now."

"That sounds bloody marvellous." Wearily rubbing his eyes, Giles returned the smile.

*

Glancing at the three others sprawled around the room on cots and sofas, Spike grimaced. It was bad enough seeing them every day, but sharing a room wasn't his idea of fun at all. The wolf, he could bear, but the brunettes? Not a snowball's chance in Hell.

Having spent much of the journey from Sunnydale napping, he wasn't exactly the sleepiest member of the group. And after spending the night with Xander snoring next to him, he just wanted to have a break.

Carefully twisting the doorknob, he cautiously pulled the door open, slipped out into the deserted hall, leaving his three companions still safely tucked away in the land of nod. Shutting the door quietly, he exhaled a sigh. "I need a bloody fag."

The wood floors smooth against his bare feet, he stuck one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other rubbing at his sleep-misted eyes. Muffling a yawn, he padded down the hall, glancing around for the stairs.

Footfalls reached his ears. Light. Feminine. A girl running lightly along the floor, as quietly as she could. He shook his head, yawned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as he turned a corner and abruptly collided with someone.

Caught off-balance, he managed to yelp before plummeting backwards, landing flat on his back with a warm, soft body on top of his. An abundance of dark brown and white hair fell over his face, two small hands spread on his chest.

"Bloody hell." He grunted, the back of his head connecting with the floor. The girl gasped, leapt off his swiftly, on her knees beside him, hands clutched to her chest. He shook his head, sat up, running his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

"I'm sorry." The girl whispered urgently. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Cocking a brow, he eyed her. Pretty little thing. Worry lines already starting to form around blue-grey eyes. Dark hair hung loose around her face, white streaks marring the almost-Dru-esque colouring. "I've got a bump the size of Texas on the back of me bloody skull." He pointed to it. "But apart from that, I'm just peachy."

"So I didn't...hurt you?" Looking him over - or checking him out, Spike grinned - she frowned, glancing down at her hands. "I don't get it. I *touched* you...and it didn't do anything? That's never happened before..."

"Oh, right!" A lightbulb went on in the vampire's head. "You're one of those mutant people, right, luv?"

She nodded suspiciously. "Why? Aren't you one?" He muffled a snort of laughter. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Leaning forward on his knees, he gazed at her, one hand rising to cup her chin. "So many questions, little girl." He ran his thumb over her cheek. Large eyes seemed to grow larger, blinking at him mutely. "So many."

"I must know who you are." She managed to say, staring at him.

Leaning even closer, he smiled, tapped her on the tip of her nose. "Learn to live with disappointment." He advised her, rolling to his feet like a cat and continuing on his way down the hall, not even glancing back at the girl.

It seemed like forever until he found a flight of stairs, sliding down the bannister easily and dropping to his feet on the carpet at the bottom, but not before accidentally knocking a vase of a plinth at the end of the bannister.

"Whoops." He smirked, pulling open the door and stepping out into the open air, inhaling the scent of the night, his hands groping for his lighter and cigarettes. Walking out to the lawn, he lay back on the grass, inhaled a smoky drag from his cigarette and watched the clouds skimming across in front of the stars.

He never saw the small face watching him from one of the windows on the second floor of the mansion, blue-grey eyes filled with fascination and complete and utter bewilderment.

*

"Puh-lease! I'm so not flirting!"

"Uh-huh." Buffy smirked. "That's why your skirt length has suddenly gone from knee-length to thigh-length, huh?"

Hands on her hips, the brunette pursed her lips. "Just because I choose not to look skanky, like a certain Slayer around here I could mention, doesn't mean I like the guy in the shades." She paused, smirked. "Even if he is a hottie."

"Whatever." Buffy snorted, unrolling a small knapsack she had brought with her. The array of blades, stakes and other such sharp and pointy impliments looked suitably impressive and silence the brunette quickly. 

Ever since Willow had disappeared from Sunnydale, Cordelia and Buffy had grown closer, in spite of the daily bitch-fests, Although Cordy would never take Willow's place for the Slayer, Buffy found that she had a reliable friend in the brunette and Cordelia, as much as it surprised her, could say the same of the blonde.

"What about that Logan guy, though?" Turning a knife over in her hands, hazel eyes met brown.

Sitting down on the bed beside the weapons, Cordelia crossed her legs delicately and pulled a face. "Gross! Too hairy. And those knife things in his hands? Ew! And that whole macho act? Puh-lease! He's probably gay but doesn't want to admit it."

"That's not what I meant." Buffy gave her companion a wry grin.

"Ooh!" The brunette's eyes widened. "You like him. You *like* like him!"

Blushing scarlet, Buffy shook her head. "No I don't!" She protested. "He's a jerk! A big, hairy jerk with really…neat claws."

"Don't tell me you didn't check him out." Cordelia eyed the blonde shrewdly. "He's all muscley and stuff...even though I do still say he's gay. All the best-looking ones are and I..." Trailing off, her blush matched the Slayers. "I didn't check him out!" She argued at the blonde's raised eyebrow. "I didn't!" She paused. "Okay, fine, I did, but that's not the point! The point is that *you* like *him*. Like-like, not let-kick-the-crap-out-of-each-other-like."

"I might wanna kick the crap out of him." Buffy mumbled, rolling her weapons pack back up.

"Or you might just want to wrestle with him." The gleeful brunette put in with a wide grin, her eyes dancing. "Minus clothing preferably."

"Cordy!"

"Deny it, then."

"Um..."

Cordelia smirked triumphantly. "You have the big, wrong lusty feelings for hairy guy. You saw him for what? Ten minutes last night and now you're all ooshy over him? Even when your ex-hunnie is with us?"

"Operative word being 'ex-hunnie'." The blonde noted dryly. "And I'm allowed to have lusty wrong feelings for whoever I like. Angel and I are just friends, which is why he lives in L.A. and I still hang around SunnyHell."

"Like he'd be interested in you anyway." The brunette pulled another face. "Sure, he's got that whole macho thing, but I bet he grunts and eats with his hands. He's all big and growly and drooly and ew."

"Not unlike Xander, then?" Buffy reminded the brunette with a sickeningly sweet smile.

A pillow sailed from the bed and smacked Buffy firmly across the face. The Slayer shrieked between giggles, retrieving the pillow from the floor and launching herself at the brunette, pummeling her mercilessly. 

"Stoppit! Cordelia shrieked, slapping at the blonde's hands, wriggling furiously. "Let me change into something more Charlie's Angels!"

"You chose the slut-look." Buffy grinned evilly, whapping the other girl around the head with the pillow. "Live and learn, Cordy." The brunette released another shriek that faded off into hysterical giggles. "Live and learn!"

*

"Cordy! Stop!"

Angel tapped Xander on the shoulder. The brunette yelped, swung round, a guilty look on his face. "I wasn't listening to Buffy and Cordelia doing something that sounds naughty through the door, honest! You won't tell them will you?"

A guttural grunt from within the room seemed to distract the vampire. "I won't tell them if you won't." He flashed a wicked grin at the teen.

"Oh...aah! Dont touch that!" There was a low wail. "Buffy!"

"You touched mine first." Buffy's voice chastised her companion. What sounded like a bed frame started squeaking, the yelps, squeals and grunts from the room getting louder and louder by the minute. "Cor...c'mon!"

There was a chuckle "Can't make me."

A silence fell, both men glancing at each other, then the door swung inwards revealing Cordelia and Buffy standing there, stopping short and glancing at each other. "Uh...guys? What were you doing standing that close to the door?"

"It's...uh..." Xander shot a hopeful look at Angel.

"Nice wood." The vampire leaned in, tapped firmly on the panel, grinning feebly. "Smooth, full of...woody goodness."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, grabbed Angel with one hand, ander with the other and slammed them back against the door. "You listen at our door again, and I'll show you how good the stakes are that I made from it."

Releasing both, she glanced at Cordelia. The other girl nodded, looped her arm through the Slayer's and they walked off down the hall.

"We are almost SO dead." Xander rubbed the back of his head with a wince.

"Nah." Angel grinned. 

"Why? Cos Buffy would never kill her two bestest buds?" The vampire lifted his brow. "Apart from to send us to Hell? Oh God, we're going to die, aren't we?" 

"Not if she uses that particular door." Angel ran his hand lovingly over the wood. "I don't think she could afford to pay ten thousand dollars for a replacement. We're safe as long as she doesn't have an off-shore bank account we don't know about." 

There was a long silence. "Oh God, we're going to die!"

Oz emerged from the room across the hall, crooked a brow. "Relax, Xander. I'm thinking you might have been living too long on a Hellmouth."

"Buffy's going to kill us." Xander whimpered, grabbing the werewolf by the shoulders. "She gonna kill us with the door."

Oz nodded politely. "I'm sure she is." He agreed pleasantly. "But now, its time for eating, so if you want a last meal, I'm thinking that going to the dining room would be an idea of the good and stomach-filling kind."

Whimpering, Xander reluctantly followed vampire and werewolf down the hallway, forgetting about his impending death situation as the scent of cooked food wafted up the stairwell. "God, I'm hungry!"

"Kinda thought you'd say that."

Entering the dining room, the sunlight effeciently kept to a minimum, the triad received curious looks from some of the young mutants, immediately spotting Buffy and Cordelia in conversation with several of the girls at one table. 

Giles was standing alongside Xavier, apparently talking with the head mutant. Spike, though, was sitting on his own near a window, sipping from a mug. He seemed to be the safest bet for a breakfast companion.

"Hey, blondie, where'd you disappear to?"

Blue eyes rose to the trio. "Went out for a fag to escape your snoring."

"I don't snore!" Xander protested.

Spike smirked, drained the contents of the mug and laid it down on the table. Leaning on his forearms, he batted his eyes up at the teen. "Well, it wasn't wolfboy. He growls. It wasn't poofter, cos he doesn't breath and it wasn't me." Checking on his fingers, he spread his hands in a shrug. "If it wasn't you, we have ourselves a ghost that snores."

"He has a point." Oz agreed.

"I'm going to get something to eat." Xander huffed petulantly, stomping away to the food carts and grabbing a plate. Oz followed, leaving the two vampires sitting in silence at the table, until Spike shot a glance across the room distractedly. 

"Hey, poofwad, what do you think of humans?"

"What do you mean?" The blonde shrugged, his gaze wandering.The elder vampire followed, found the figure Spike was focussing on. She was sitting at the same table as the two girls and was sending equally furtive glances back in the peroxide vampire's direction. "Whose that?"

Another shrug was offered, Spike's finger running around the rim of the mug. "I bumped into her this morning." He said. "She's a nutty little thing."

"Mutant?"

"So she said." The blonde's nose wrinkled. "She said she shouldn't be able to touch me. She was bloody freaked that I didn't turn into a monkey, or go green or whatever happens when she touches humans."

He watched as the slender brunette got to her feet, made her way over to the Professor, bending to talk to him, pointing in Spike's direction. The blonde shifted uncomfortably as Xavier's calm gaze fell on him. He said something to the girl, then turned and wheeled out of the room, Giles leaving with him.

"And if that doesn't make you paranoid." The younger vampire drawled, getting to his feet slowly. "Nothing will." Turning, he thrust one hand into his pocket and stalked out of the dining room, pulling the door shut behind him.

*

Watching the strange, blonde man disappear out of the room, Rogue frowned. The blonde girl at the table seemed to catch the look. "So you've met Spike, huh?"

"Wh-what?"

"Blonde guy." The girl waved her fork in the direction of the door. "Would-be hottie with cheekbones to die for, blue eyes, black jeans, black t-shirt."

Forcing a smile, Rogue said. "I didn't know that was his name. I saw him this morning. I didn't get a chance to ask his name."

"Well," The girl speared a chunk of pancake, swirling it in the puddle of syrup at the side of her plate. "That's our Spike..." She paused, frowned. "Well, not *our* Spike, but we look after him for some reason." She chewed thoughtfully on the pancake. "But not by choice." She finally added, sipping some milk from her glass.

"He's a cutie." Kitty grinned. "How old is he?"

The blonde and brunette exchanged glances. "Uh...we're not sure." The brunette replied for the blonde. "I'm guessing way old, though. All the guys I've met in Sunnydale turn out to be way older than they look."

"Good answer." The blonde muttered, stabbing at her pancakes.

"You're here from Sunnydale?" Jubilee tilted her head curiously. "That's where Electra came from. Did you know her?"

"Electra?" The brunette glanced at the blonde. "Electra?" The blonde mouthed the word 'Willow', the brunette's eyes widening in understanding. "Oh, yeah! We knew Electra before she went all...mutanty." Propping her elbows on the table, she leaned forward. "There's something I've wanted to ask...does it hurt?"

Jubilee raised an eyebrow. "Does it hurt to be a mutant?" The girl nodded. "Not really. We're just the same as normal people, but with kinda special powers."

"Like fast healing and super strength?" Kitty nodded. The brunette turned to the blonde. "See! What did I tell you. You are a mutant! Its the only explanation...well, that and the Slayer stuff, but does that mean Slayers are mutant...ow!"

The blonde smiled sweetly at the brunette. "I think You talk too much, Cor." She said, her tone softly threatening. She looked up as the older Englishman approached the table. "Giles! Come, meet people! Stop Cor from making a fool of herself."

"The Professor actually asked me to come and get the girl called Rogue." He turned gentle green eyes to the young mutant. "He wants to see you in his office." She nodded, got to her feet hastily. "And Buffy, tell Angel that the Professor wants to see him there too."

"Yes, sir, Boss sir." The blonde pouted, got to her feet and stomped off across the dining room to the tall, dark, broody-looking man at the same table as the green- and black-stripe haired young man.

Taking advantage of the blonde's absense, Jubilee leaned forward. "So, Cor," She murmured conspiratorially. "What's a Slayer?"

*

"I don't see what the bloody fuss is about." Pacing back and forth across the floor, the blonde vampire shot a glare in Giles' direction. "You drag me along on a wild goose chase to find the witch and she isn't even here."

Green eyes met blue coolly. "Bear in mind who keeps you supplied with food, shelter and protection from the rest of your kind."

"Oh yeah, you're just so bloody wonderful!" Shooting a glare at the Professor, the blonde snorted. "And would you stop bloody staring at me. I know I'm nummy eye-candy, but you're not my type, mate." He prowled towards the door.

"What about Cecilly?"

The vampire froze. "What?"

"Cecilly."

Blue eyes swivelled to the Professor. He lifted a finger to his temple, shook his head. "You can't be readin' my mind. The poofball says its impossible, that the thoughts are like the reflection. They don't show up, or some crap like that."

"It all depends on the abilities of the telepath." He heard the voice in his mind, the Professor's lips motionless.

"Stop that!" Clamping his hands over his ears, the vampire shook his head again. "S'bloody weird as hell when you do that." He turned, stalked back to the seat. "Right, so you got my attention, mate. What do you want with me?"

He gestured to the girl sitting quietly alongside the vampire, as the door opened, the tall figure of Angel entering. "I want to test a theory."

"So I'm a soddin' guinea pig again? Bloody brilliant."

"Spike, shut up."

The Professor chuckled. "Let me explains, Spike. Rogue, here, has a unique power. Any time she touches her skin to the flesh of another living being, she draws from their life force, their powers, their memories. She touched you this morning and yet, nothing happened."

"S'obvious, innit?" The vampire glanced at the girl with renewed interest. "She can't suck the lifeforce from me cos I'm already dead."

"That's what I originally thought." The Professor agreed. "But I wanted to check. Could you remove your gloves, Rogue?" The girl complied. "Would you mind taking her hands in yours, William?"

The vampire shot a glare at the eldest of the mutants. "Well, why don't I just snog the bloody chit while I'm at it?" Still, he took her hands in his, held them for a moment, meeting her eyes with a wry grin. "There. Touched her. Not dead. Am I done?"

"One moment." Gesturing the elder vampire forward, Xavier smiled. "Rogue, try this one."

The girl got to her feet, nervously extended her hands. Angel's fingers wrapped around hers and they stood, motionless, for less than a heartbeat, then Angel's head snapped back. He inhaled a sharp breath, stumbling back a step.

Rogue dropped his hands, backstepped. The dark vampire collided with the wall, gasping. He body jerked, his true features surfacing, eyes burning as he sank into unconsciousness. 

Only then, did the girl start to scream.


	3. Part 3

Lying on her back, icy eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, Electra wove her fingers across her stomach, a low sigh escaping her

Lying on her back, icy eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, Electra wove her fingers across her stomach, a low sigh escaping her. 

Shifting her head, her eyes drifted to the other mutant in the room with her. She had felt the arrival of Mystique, even before she made herself visible. The blue mutant had no idea about Electra's wiccan powers.

During her time with the X-Men, she had worked on both, developing her abilities. She knew her control was good, but her patience – especially with this glamorous-looking, scaled mutant – was wearing thin.

"What do you want, now?"

Solid yellow eyes gazed at her contemptuously, as if to remind her that she - Electra - was the newcomer, the interloper, the one who didn't belong with them. Naturally, it didn't work. 

Seeing as Electra had taken her place in Magneto's favour, nothing any of the other mutants in the rebel union did could affect the newcomer's feeling of belonging.

After all, it was only Mystique who was an unreasonable bitch.

At first, she had received guarded respect, as they made their way back to 'Home'. The oldest mutant present, the charismatic Magneto, insisted it was to be called home, not 'the lair' or some equally childish drivel.

He was smart. She had realised that the moment she was introduced to him. And he appeared to have realised the same of her, his clear curiosity carefully concealed behind mask of calm civility.

Indeed, it was she who had been in discussion with the master of this particular group of mutants for several hours of the previous day, instead of his apparent lover, Mystique. Electra almost smiled to herself. If she hadn't been so dangerous to touch, she was certain that the suave gentleman would have played out a carefully-plotted seduction.

With guarded hostility, the blue-skinned woman smiled coldly. "Magneto wants to see you."

"Of course he does." Rolling to her feet, sparks dancing on her skin, she flashed her best 'I won't kill you soon' smile at the red-haired mutant. If there was one thing she missed, it was her red hair that had made her undeniably Willow Rosenberg.

That and the innocence and sweetness and light.

Strolling passed the practically snarling woman, she ran a hand through her static-raised hair casually, musing it a little more than usual. She knew she'd maintained her cute look, which having mussed hair only laid emphasis on.

Made her look sweet and relatively harmless.

What a joke.

Making her way into the deserted office chambers that Magneto resided in, she rubbed one hand warily down the leg of her jeans. Something definitely didn't feel right, the ominous silence only reaffirming her unease.

"Ah, Electra." The familiar accent murmured from behind her. She swung around, found him standing in the doorway, clad impeccably as ever. She almost applauded. Even the little wings of silvering hair were perfect.

Nodding, as if unaware of what was going on, she faked another pleasant smile. She knew all too well what was going on and she planned to play it for all it was worth. Folding her hands, she undid the clip that locked her hand guards shut, never taking her eyes from the form of the man before her.

"I called you here for...a rather important reason..."

"Instead of another screw on the desk?"

The stone-cold features wavered slightly. Control. That was good. "Maybe later." The tone was a little strained, she noted with glee. Being bad could be so much fun. "For now, I need to tell you that you must leave or risk death, my dear."

"From who?" She raised one brow with a crackle of static. Pausing, she deliberately picked her wording. "Mystique?" Again, there was a tiny wavering in the controlled tightness of the old man's face.

"Perhaps." His other hand slid from his pocket, a small, black revolver gripped in his palm. "Then again, perhaps not."

Electra stifled a chuckle. "A gun. You're going to shoot me. How unoriginal. What about all that 'we are brothers and fight together' bullshit? Did I just get kicked out of the family without knowing about it?"

"You're an outsider. A danger to the family." The muzzle was aimed directly at her heart. Forcing a frightened expression on her face, her eyes widened in mock fear. "For that, I'm afraid you must die."

"Why not skewer me with shards of metal instead of a bullet? C'mon. I want to die originally."

Cold grey eyes flecked with traces of yellow met hers. "I'm sorry, Electra, but this is the only way forward."

The retort of the gun going off was deafening, ringing off the high walls of the cavern.

*

Startled to realise she had been caught in a protective embrace by the blonde man, Rogue stared nervously over at the dark...man? Deep ridges marred his broad forehead, his lips curled back from unnaturally sharp and ragged teeth.

"Wh...what is he?" She asked shakily, hastily pulling away from Spike, her hands trembling.

Xavier and Giles exchanged glances. "He is a vampire, Rogue. The same as our friend, William, there." The bald mutant gestured to the bleach blonde beside her. "Show her your true face, Spike."

Shrugging, his face rippled into the demonic folds. Her shock was palpable. "But...but vampires aren't real." She shook her head, groping for her gloves and hastily pulling them on again. "They're not real."

"You must have a bloody good imagination, then, ducks." Letting his human face return, the blonde glanced at the dark vampire, who was struggling upright against the wall, wheezing and trembling, his human face back in place. "I'm as real as you are."

"But...you didn't drink our blood and kill us..."

"Observant little thing, ain't she?" Chuckling the blonde turned and moved towards the door. Pausing, his hand on the hefty handle, he glanced pityingly back at her. "If I could, luv, I would drain you in a second."

Disappearing out of the room, the silence left in his wake was deafening. Angel stumbled to his feet, practically falling into one of the empty seats. His normally pale face was ashen. "What did you do to me?"

"She proved something to me." Xavier murmured thoughtfully. "You have a soul, correct?"

"Yeah, but I don't see..."

"Spike has no human soul, correct?" The brunette's brow wrinkled in thought. "It appears that Rogue's power only affects those with a soul. Spike was not affected in any way, as far as we can see..."

As far as we can see...

Rogue met the professor's eyes. He knew too. He had to know. True, there was no life force for her to draw on but there was more, a lot more. "Could I...talk to you, professor? Alone?" She glanced implicitly at the vampire and the...was he really a man?

"Of course, Rogue."

Giles seemed to understand the code language and helped the still-shaking Angel to his feet, supporting him as he led him out of the room, leaving the professor and the young mutant to talk in private.

*

The bullet hung in the air, an inch from Electra's chest. The look on Magneto's face was priceless, eyes wide in surprise. Stretching out her hand, Electra opened her palm and the bullet dropped lightly into it.

Fighting the urge to demand to know how the bullet had been stopped, the gun was raised again, this time aimed at the young mutant's head.

Suddenly, an invisible blow struck the hot weapon from Magneto's hand, sending it spinning across the floor. Staring wildly from the fallen gun to the silver-skinned mutant, cold, grey-yellow eyes narrowed.

"Use the force, Luke." Electra murmured, her smile one of calm self-confidence.

So it was down to hand-to-hand combat? Very well...

Magneto started forward, only to feel an invisible hand constrict around his windpipe, cutting off the air to his lungs. Trying to take another step, the grip tightened, skin bruising under the unseen touch.

"Stop..."

"You tried to kill me." Electra said. Her voice was calm, neutral. "You didn't think you'd get away with it, did you, Mystique?"

The shape-shifting mutant's eyes widened, behind her disguise as Magneto. She'd thought the kid had guessed when it had been her and the wolf-man. Or at least, that she was bluffing. Apparently not, though.

"How did you know...?"

Electra's lips curved into a cool smile. "That," She murmured, drawing closer to the gagging mutant. "Is my little secret..." Raising one hand, she ran her fingers down the Magneto mask that Mystique had assumed. "A secret you'll never find out."

Rising on her toes, she pressed her lips to the other mutant's. Electricity poured from her skin, the unshakable power weakening Mystique so much that the facade fell. Her body shuddered as the silver mutant stepped back, letting her drop to the floor, twitching.

Turning, Electra walked out of the room. In the massive antechamber, she passed Toad. He was, as usual, practising his martial arts. He flashed her a shy grin, twirling his long staff in an elaborate circle.

Pausing, she watched him. Then, she asked. "Does Mystique actually do anything useful around here, Toad?"

Springing up from the lower level to join her, he shrugged. "She's got that whole shapeshifting gig, but apart from that..." He trailed off significantly, hefting his staff to the silver-skinned, young mutant.

"I don't get what her problem is." Waiting for him to retrieve his other weapon, she swung the long pole deftly. "She can look human when she wants to. Its not like we have a choice in the matter, is it?"

Moving into a familiar routine of attack-block, the other mutant nodded. "If she was stuck in the whole blue thing, that would be okay, but she can be as normal as she wants. She can look she isn't one of us..."

A subdued silence fell, as they combated. Although Toad was swifter and more skilled, Electra was learning well. Beads of sweat crackled on her forehead and she dropped back, panting with exertion.

"I had a friend once..." She murmured absently, tossing the long staff back to the green mutant. "She was a human...but she was different. She was one of a kind...she was told she would never have friends, a life, or anything because she was so different..."

Toad eyed her with interest. "Is this one of those 'I had a friend, but she's not me' stories?"

"Uh..." Electra wished she could slap herself across the head. "Yeah. It is." Mentally chastising herself for slipping into brood-mode, she forced a tight grin. "When the boss gets back, tell him I've left...a little present in his office..."

"A present? Anything interestin'?"

Electra couldn't contain a smirk. "Something blue."

*

"All right, kid, let's see what you've got."

Bouncing on her toes, Buffy grinned. "You sure? I don't want to hurt you..."

"You'll have to hit me hard to do that, kid. Let me be the judge of how much it hurts." The muscular man looked at his petite rival. She didn't even look strong enough to swat a fly, let alone kick the crap outta him.

Her innocent smile was deceptive, the flurry of blows hitting him before he had a chance to blink. His instincts kicked and he ducked, weaved, avoided each carefully aimed punch. Damn! The kid was good.

Swinging under a roundhouse kick, he caught her ankle, flipped her backwards She rolled swiftly and was on her feet in a heartbeat, her body coiled and ready to attack. Her fist shot towards his face, he caught it, twisting her arm behind her back.

With a tug and a jerk, felt her back and other elbow lift him, tossing her over her body. Landing heavily on the floor, he felt her foot pressing down on his throat and blinked the stars out of his vision.

"Nice moves." He grated, feigning weakness. She shrugged, yelling in indignation as he grabbed her ankle, twisting her foot from underneath her and pinning her onto her back. Her legs jerked up, knees catching him in the gut and lifting him with surprising force. 

Rolling away from her and scrambling o his feet, he immediately met another roundhouse kick across the jaw, with enough force to send him tumbling halfway across the gym and to crash into the unpadded walls.

Pushing his jaw back into place, he forced himself to his feet again. The girl was still bouncing lightly on her toes, her blonde hair falling loose from her ponytail, her face rosy from the exertion of the fight.

"You gonna actually hit me some time today?" He eyed her warily. "Look, I know you're holding back cos I'm a girl. Let those babies out..." She gestured to his knuckles. "I haven't had a good fight in a long time and the old guy says you're the best."

Nodding, Logan flicked his claws out. "You get hurt and its all your own fault, kid. I won't hold back, if you don't."

From the sidelines of the room, there was a muffled snort of laughter from the teen known as Xander. Both the Slayer and Wolverine shot a glare at the boy, then turned their attention back to one another.

The fight was fast and furious, blood and bruises drawn on both sides. A clear combination of street-fighting and traditional martial arts could clearly be seen in both of them, feet and fists flying with deadly accuracy.

The door squeaked open, but neither of the combatants noticed as the X-Men slipped unobtrusively into the room, along with Giles, Angel and Spike. All six stopped short in awe, the fight so swift it looked like it was being played in fast forward.

"Bloody hell..." Spike mumbled, shooting a glance at the Watcher. "Did you know she could fight like that?"

Giles couldn't find the words to form an answer. Both combatants were equally measured in skill and strength, each determined to defeat the other. Their stubborn resolve not to lose made it more of a battle than a training fight.

Logan's claws skimmed Buffy's upper arm, opening three neat parallel striped of crimson. The scent of blood reached the two vampires, who stiffened. Slayer blood, in any form, was incredibly intoxicating.

She glanced down. "Nice work." She drawled, slamming the heel of her hand into his face, following the blow with a sharp kick to the gut that tossed him across the room. He hit the wall, about ten feet above the ground and dropped, shaking his head to clear it.

"Damn..." Scott whispered in awe. "Where'd she get strength like that?"

"It's her Slayerness." Xander put in helpfully, as Buffy offered the panting X-Man her hand and pulled him easily to his feet. "It's like she's superman, without the green kryptonite weakness."

Logan looked her up and down, catching sight of the narrow cuts on her arm. "Sorry about that, kid." She followed his gaze, shrugged.

"No worries. They'll be gone in a few minutes."

The powerfully built mutant's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "You have healing abilities too? Are you sure you're not a mutant?"

"Giles would have told me." She gave the Englishman a fond smile. "Plus, I don't think mutants have the Slayer-sense…" She glanced towards Angel, a look of concern creeping onto her features. "Angel? Are you okay?"

"A little dizzy…" He let her run to him, slide her arm around his waist to hold him upright. Anything was better than leaning against the wall. "I just found out that its not just the usual vampy things that can kill me…an interesting experience." 

"Daft pillock scared the stripy-haired kid half to death." Spike put in helpfully.

"I didn't ask her to touch me, Spike." Angel reminded him quietly. He turned to Buffy, looking at the healing cuts on her arm. "You fought good." His voice was low, admiring, traces of his love still lingering in his tone. "As usual."

Clearly feeling awkward in the lingering silence, Logan cleared his throat. "So…uh, what are we gonna do about Electra? And Magneto? We've got a damn good fighter here. I think its time we kicked his ass…"

Glances were exchanged in the Scooby Gang ranks. "Took him a while to figure why we were here, didn't it?" Cordelia chuckled dryly, lazily getting to her feet, Xander following quickly.

"You're here to fight Magneto with us?"

Buffy shrugged. "Why not? He sounds like a threat to humanity and that's what I fight."

"So we gotta fight on the same side?" Logan smothered an almost-smile. "Damn! I kinda liked the idea of pummelin' ya again."

Leaving Angel's side, Buffy reached up and patronizingly patted the large mutant on the head. "All in good time, Logan. All in good time." She grinned. "And remember…I was holding back."

Ignoring his grumble of protest, she turned and walked out the room, the rest of the group following her. Logan was trailing behind, a half-grin playing on his features. Cute, funny as hell, a snappy dresser and a good fighter.

Some girls were just too good to be true.

*

"What did you do to Mystique?"

Sprawled on her stomach on her bed, flicking through a magazine, Electra didn't even lift her eyes to Magneto. "I gave her a kiss."

"Do you have any idea what you've done to her?" His voice was calm, but she could hear the cold, calculated anger rippling off every syllable.

"Apart from electrocuting her to within an inch of her sorry life, preventing her from killing me and basically pissing you off?" Silver eyes met chilling grey. "No." Her smile was crooked. "I don't have a damn clue."

"Killing you? Mystique would never…"

"Take your form, try and shoot me in cold blood because she was jealous? Of course not. That's just not her style…" Turning back to her magazine, she chuckled coolly. "I didn't like her anyway. Anyone who wanders around naked has to be an exhibitionist and I've never liked them."

Magneto gazed down at the girl. Yes, she was smart. She definitely had power. She also lacked that obedience and respect that Mystique and the majority of his other group members had for him.

There was always the chance of betrayal.

"We're going out tonight." He finally said. "I have a little test for you to do."

Her eyes rose slowly, warily. "What kind of a test?"

"A test of loyalty." His smile was fixed, calm. "You almost killed my second in command. That doesn't seem an entirely loyal thing to do. I want you to prove yourself to me, if you wish to stay." He paused, examining his nails thoughtfully. "And, if you wish to live."

Sitting up, Electra nodded. "I'm loyal. I'll do anything, okay. Just show me your test and I'll show you just how damn loyal I can be." 

"Good." Something in that single word terrified the young mutant. His chilling calm was unnatural. Magneto turned, his small, cruel smile raising the corners of his lips. As he shut the door behind him, he softly repeated. "Good."


End file.
